breaking

I managed to get some quiet time today. I have had a bit of difficulty working in my half-day with God this week. I slipped away for a few hours today, but it wasn't nearly long enough. But I did enjoy some reflection and note taking, not to mention a yummy decaf caramel latte.

I thought about a lot of things. About my aunt, about my chin, about leaving this place. And I thought about an episode of "Chopped" that Mr. and I watched yesterday. 

I am sure it isn't anything current, because we download the shows and watch them as we can. But last night was unique. There was one very arrogant chef. Unfortunately, that is not unusual. There is usually one every episode.

But there was also this other guy who had become a chef later in life. He had been an architect and lost everything because of a drug addiction. He had hit rock bottom, and then, on the way back up, found that cooking was healing and restorative.

His attitude was so markedly different. Humble. Teachable. Gentle. And his food was (apparently) incredible, because he won the challenge. As he expressed his gratitude to the judges, he had them in tears, not only because of his story but also because of the respect he showed them.

And I thought how beautiful this kind of brokenness is. Full of strength and dignity, having faced the worst and come out on the other side with grace—humbled but solid. Grounded in reality, hopeful even when you've seen it at its most harsh.

I wondered if the other chefs had just not been knocked down enough in life yet. Had never been given reason to doubt themselves or their abilities. And I saw how shallow and short-sighted they seemed, when compared to this gentleman. This gentle man.

I don't like to suffer. I do not like to face disappointment. I do not want to struggle. But I want the depth that it teaches. I want the perspective it gives. I want the beauty that comes from the breaking.